Page 59 of Holiday Hire

"Now we have fun," I say, then shout, "Who wants to play Pumpkin Ring Toss?"

"I do! I do!" Jacob Jr., Evelyn's five-year-old, yells.

The others echo his excitement, jumping up and down.

I walk over to the first area I set up earlier this morning. Pumpkins sit staggered on the sand. Signs reading 10, 25, 50, 75, and 100 are in front of them. Cones and plastic rings are behind the line drawn on the ground.

The kids run over, and I instruct, "Everyone gets ten rings. You can toss your rings on whatever pumpkin you want. The number in front of the pumpkin is how many points you earn. At the end, you have to add up your points. Whoever has the most points, wins."

Isabella asks, "What do we win?"

I point to the picnic table. "You get to pick whatever you want from the prize box."

She beams. "Okay, I'm going to win."

"You wish," Wilder says. Determination fills his expression, and he picks up the red rings.

She rolls her eyes. "You'll see."

I laugh. "Let's be nice to each other."

"Good luck with that," Alexander states, stepping next to me and crossing his arms. The shadow from his cowboy hat shades most of his features, but I don't miss his lips twitching.

"I want to be pink!" Emma declares, stepping next to the rings and picking one up.

"I'm orange!" Ace claims.

"Red!" Wilder decides.

Jacob Jr. picks up a green ring, and Isabella selects the purple.

Alexander leans closer, lowering his voice. "You have yellow and blue left, but we don't have another two kids."

I nod, replying, "Better to let everyone have a choice than someone whining they didn't get to choose."

"Ah. That's good thinking," he praises.

"Yep!" I step forward and ask the kids, "Are you ready?"

They all shout, "Yes!"

"One, two, three, toss!" I call out.

Rings fly across the beach. Some hit the sand while others go around the pumpkins. Every time one does, excited shouts fill the air.

When all the rings have been tossed, the kids count their points, shouting them out.

Isabella jumps up and down. "I did it! I won! Told you, Wilder!"

He shrugs. "Big deal."

I laugh and point to the prize box. "Great job. Go ahead and pick something out."

"Yay!" She runs over to the table and pulls out a sheet of stickers.

I ask, "Okay, who's ready for pine cone bowling?"

"I was born ready," Ace states, stepping in front of the other line and picking up the plastic bowling balls I bought in town the day before.

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